This Time Around
by Dragon-Sigma
Summary: It may be a new and different universe, but there are constants and bonds that will remain true. Scenes of Spock's development.


**Note: Crossposted to Archive of Our Own as Dragonsigma. My fic Dealers of Secrets isn't dead, just stalled, and I'm fully expecting to continue it. I'm taking a break to let the ideas sort out.**

**0**

It isn't his universe, he must remember that. His life, his friends, his home, all of that is far away and long since gone. Guidance, that is his purpose here, to give a self that no longer only might-have-been the life he's destined to lead, the friend he's destined to meet and serve and love. To guide, and then to step aside, to interfere no longer in a life he must not steal from himself.

His chance now, as he finds that friend-now-stranger on the icy planet that isn't a home. His home is gone, has been gone for decades now, the empty sky overhead a visible testament to the pain in his head and heart, the ache of bonds torn and unhealed. His world is lost once more. He will never have his home again, he knew that long ago. But he can still offer his help here, to this too-familiar boy.

Why is he here? In the whole wide universe, how is he here at this moment? They are not bonded, cannot ever be bonded, but Spock would know him in any universe and in any form. And in any universe they would seek each other out.

Would he call it luck that caused this meeting? Long ago in an unreachable universe, this boy might once have called it that. But this boy is not his, not his, he must remember, though he can see his lost friend, his lost love, in every step and swagger. How young and vibrant he is, how much life still ahead of him!

The James Kirk that is not his looks at this strange old man he does not know.

His eyes are blue.

**1**

It isn't that he means to be harsh, but discipline at the Academy leaves much to be desired. Vulcan children have better focus than most of his nearly adult students. Even in advanced classes, it seems, cadets will drift away from the lesson, gravitating towards computer games and whispered conversations and countless other distractions.

Behavior in his classes improves somewhat after he threatens to fail a cadet when he catches her messaging a friend instead of taking notes. Rumors spread quickly after that incident. Spock finds this a distasteful, if efficient, method of disseminating information, and yet another distraction from education. Despite what these rumors say, he does not enjoy humiliating erring students, nor does he take any pleasure in assigning what they consider excessive amounts of work and he considers just barely adequate. Spock does not bother to correct the basic error in these assumptions: that a Vulcan would "enjoy" anything, much less causing distress. As for the comments regarding the workload and the difficult exams, he simply reasons that if the cadets would spend more time studying and less time consuming intoxicating beverages, there would be far fewer complaints and far more successes. As it is, if the message going around is"the Commander's a tightass with no sense of humor who gives impossible tests" then at least it might discourage less dedicated students from taking his classes.

The Vulcan system of education, he thinks, is far superior. Despite the lack of interpersonal relations and the taunting that had taken years to abate and even then continued in the form of slurs spoken not quite out-of-earshot, he had at least developed a work ethic that is the envy of many of his fellow professors. Some of them, and most of the cadets, might mock his aversion to entertainment, but this is a weak insult when he finds their obsession with it childish and wasteful. All of this energy devoted to "fun" and so little devoted to learning. He values the few students who seem to be above this foolish preference. One of these students is Nyota Uhura, a bright young woman who holds most of the top scores in his linguistics courses. After a particular assignment, one that troubled most of his students but fascinated her, she approaches him asking for additional assignments and books, and then returns after studying those, asking for more.

He spends more time with her than her studies require, becomes closer than is perhaps strictly professional, but he reasons that if it does not interfere with his teaching or her classes, forming a relationship could harm neither of them.

**2 **

After Earth is saved and his planet is dead, in the first peaceful moments he has after so many hours of chaos and tension, when the pain in his head of so many broken bonds has receded for the moment but not enough so that he thinks he can bear the pitying looks and hollow words of sympathy the others will undoubtedly thrust upon him, Cadet Kirk approaches him where he stands on the observation deck looking out at the stars.

The cadet's guilt is powerful enough for Spock to sense through his weakened shields, and it is familiar. It is what he sensed as this same cadet nearly died beneath his hand, though he had been too consumed by grief and rage and then by shame to recognize it then.

"I figured I should talk to you," the cadet begins, speaking as if he's rehearsed the words, "before you get the wrong idea. I didn't get a chance before we went after Nero."

Spock turns to face him, already predicting his words.

"What I said. Before. I didn't mean a word of it, really. I'm sorry. It was awful… If there had been any other way…"

"You did what was needed." He understands now that removing him from command had been the logical choice.

"Doesn't stop it from making me a total asshole." Kirk smiles, faintly. "You did get back at me." Guilt, this time his own. Spock looks away.

"I should not have injured you. There was no justification for my actions."

"I'd say there was plenty justification. It's not like anyone's going to blame you for it." A pause. "Trust me, it hurt." He rubs at his neck. "In more ways than one."

Spock sees no response to that. Kirk steps forward so he's standing next to him, stares at the darkness and the dots of faraway light.

"Hey, it worked out. We stopped Nero."

"Indeed. Our mission was a success." Even if they cannot bring back the billions lost, they at least ensured that other worlds will not suffer that same fate.

"I'm impressed with how you've been holding up. I'd be in much worse shape if it had been Earth. You must think it's pretty unfair, that they lived when…" he trails off.

"No," Spock replies, firmly. "I cannot regret that more lives were not lost."

Silence hangs between them for a few moments, and Spock considers that he has treated this cadet unjustly, and that perhaps his own apologies are not yet complete.

"It was inappropriate of me to bring up the subject of your father during the Kobayashi Maru hearing. It was irrelevant to the topic at hand and it was hurtful, and I apologize."

Kirk sighs and kicks at the floor. "Don't blame you. I mean. It's hardly the first time someone's used that against me."

"You are often compared to your father, judged against his actions?"

"All my life. It doesn't help, how much I look like him. Used to have the eyes too, I got them changed soon's I could fake an ID well enough to pass the age requirement."

It makes Spock wonder what has occurred in the cadet's life, but he will not indulge his curiosity at the risk of forcing Kirk to recall more painful memories.

"It probably doesn't mean much to you," Kirk begins, "but I'm sorry about everything… I asked Uhura…" he takes a deep breath, speaks the Vulcan phrase Spock has heard so far this day only once. _I grieve with thee. _He is the only person besides Nyota who has taken the effort to offer condolences in Spock's own language.

His pronunciation is barely passable, but the sentiment is honest. Spock thinks on all that has happened since he met James Kirk, and sees that this cadet he had judged and dismissed as deceitful and immature may someday be a great man.

**3**

He takes up the direction of the Enterprise's Science department with a dedication that both inspires and frightens the crew. They quickly learn that he accepts only the best possible work from his team, that imprecise measurements or half-completed reports will not be tolerated. They rise to the challenge, and soon the quality of their work is the pride of the fleet, although Spock suspects that many of the people who envy them would be unwilling to meet his standards if given the chance. Those high standards are questioned once, when the Captain suggests to him that the absolute lack of praise and stern treatment of mistakes might be hurting morale. Spock responds that his methods are only logical, that his scientists should not expect error to be tolerated, that they should understand that the highest quality of work is the only acceptable quality. There is no reason to give useless emotional words when the work is satisfactory. That should be expected, not extraordinary. Kirk simply sighs and shakes his head, and the issue is left at that for the time being.

As it is, he finds the deference given him useful. If the crewmembers fear his disapproval, that can only encourage their success. It is some time before he's forced to reevaluate his methods.

Their mission is nothing out of the ordinary; they're simply to run genetic scans on several populations of the same species of animal to determine the effect of a recent natural disaster. It is a simple experiment that should pose no problems for the xenobiology team.

Fifty-four minutes into the cataloging process, he encounters a lab assistant wandering around a storage deck, one of the small furred animals held in her arms. He asks her what she is doing, and she nervously explains that she was told to bring the animal to Biology Lab C. He reminds her that she is a deck above her intended destination, and then asks if the animal has been through the regulation decontamination procedure. Her eyes widen and she steps back from him, looking away.

"I…I don't know, sir, I haven't done it…"

"Do you understand why the safety regulations are in place? Disease poses a serious risk on any starship, and improper handling of infected animals has led to deaths in many cases. As you have been so careless as to bring an animal into this portion of the ship without decontamination, I will ask you to review the regulations."

"I- I'm sorry sir, I didn't mean to. I got lost…" She speaks as if she is having difficulty breathing.

"Disobeying simple regulations is unacceptable. Future behavior will not be tolerated. Return the animal to the lab and report to your immediate superior for instruction."

"Yes, sir," she says, her voice strained, and hurries down the corridor. Spock thinks little of the incident until Doctor McCoy confronts him twenty-three minutes later.

"You mind telling me what's going on?" McCoy says. He is not pleased.

"I do not understand, to what are you referring?"

"You wanna tell me why Christine found Lucy Song sobbing in a storage closet? The poor girl's convinced she's going to be kicked off the ship! What did you _say_ to her, Spock?"

This is unexpected news. Spock had not expected Ensign Song to react so strongly.

"I found Ensign Song with a possibly contaminated specimen on a deck she was not supposed to be on, and I informed her of her errors. I fail to see my fault in what is obviously an irrational reaction." He ignores the faint discomfort awakened by the revelation. In no way had he intended Song to become so distressed.

"Spock!" The doctor is outraged; he often takes this stance in response to logic. "She joined the ship last week! You can't just yell at people like that."

"I do not 'yell,' Doctor. Do you expect me to cease correcting unacceptable behavior?"

"You know, I had almost started to believe you weren't actually heartless, but right now it looks like I was wrong. Do you _like _scaring your crew half to death or something?"

"You mistake my meaning," Spock says. "I do not wish to cause distress, and regret the apparent outcome of my reprimand of Ensign Song, but there is no reason for me to fail to give corrections when corrections are needed."

"You don't get it, do you? This isn't the first time there's been problems because of the way you run things. Yesterday I had an ensign in here with acid burns, because he misread the labels on the bottles. You want to know why he did that? Because he hadn't slept in two days, trying to get reports up to your standards! And the stress isn't doing the rest of them any good, either. Something's gotta change!"

Before he can tell the doctor that if the crewmembers cannot handle working on the Enterprise, they should be replaced with ones who can, Christine Chapel enters the room.

"I talked to Lidia, she's Lucy's team leader. She says she gave Lucy the dog–that's what they're calling them– to bring to the lab after Lidia's group ran decontam." She turns to Spock. "Nyota's with Lucy now, and she says she can return to the lab soon."

Spock considers this. Thinking back on confrontation and the ensign's odd style of speech, he realizes she must have been on the brink of tears and struggling to not cry in front of him, whether out of shame or fear of his reaction, he does not know. He finds he does not want to be feared.

Chapel leaves to continue her work. The doctor looks to Spock, waiting for a response. "Well?"

He could still dismiss the girl's emotional reaction, still say that logically he was right to reprimand her based on his assumptions, but he senses too sharply the injustice of the situation and knows that few people would accept further defense of his actions. Certainly not Dr. McCoy, or the Captain.

"It appears I was in error," he says finally.

"Damn right you were." And Spock thinks that intimidation and fear are not the same as loyalty or dedication. His treatment of the crew sets him apart from them as much as his Vulcan heritage.

"Thank you for bringing this to my attention," he says, stiffly. He might agree now that change is needed, but he does not want the inevitable smug comments the doctor will make if he believes he has proven Spock wrong. Even without the cue, he demonstrates the sentiment in his expression. Spock turns to leave, already wondering how he will amend his leadership. Advice on the matter would be beneficial.

Kirk suggests, with a smile, that he "Be nice to them sometimes. Positive reinforcement. You'll be surprised."

The next time an officer hands Spock a report, he tells her the work is good. He expects her to become complacent after the compliment. There is little chance, he thinks, that this concession to human emotion will result in better work.

He receives the next report two days ahead of schedule.

**4**

The mission is not yet a disaster, but it could become one at the choice of the beings holding them captive. While Nyota's bargaining has secured the lives of herself and the doctor, the Tornarens will not allow a human's voice to buy their superiors their freedom. The sect that has captured Spock and his captain, captured them and trapped them in a cold room unable to contact their ship, will not release them unless they can prove their honor, prove that the human is worthy of living.

And Kirk is injured.

Despite Spock's best efforts to shield him, he had been bitten by one of their captors' venomous guard animals, and it has affected him badly, bringing fear and pain. This, added to the broken rib he suffered fighting with the Tornarens when they were ambushed. They were both bitten, though it is best that for the moment Kirk not know this. He would be concerned, when right now it is his safety that is more important. Spock will argue for that, speak in his defense, when the captors return. He can fight the effects, he is sure–must be sure–for long enough to see them safe.

It is difficult for Spock to see his captain like this, shivering and staring around and rubbing at his arms in an attempt to ease the overactive nerves and cramping muscles, trying not to cry out. But Spock does not look away, will not leave him alone.

"If you would allow me… I could lessen the effects through use of a surface meld."

Kirk doesn't respond for a few moments. Spock begins to repeat himself when he hears, "You'd be in my head?"

"It would be contact enough only to detect neural activity and influence it. I would not attempt to perceive your thoughts."

He appears to consider this, then winces at another burst of pain. There is no reason for him to remain in this state, not when the Toranens care nothing for his comfort or his voice.

"Let me do this for you. Let me help."

Kirk looks at him strangely for a moment, then shakes his head for a moment as if confused. "Sure," he says. It is an inconclusive answer, and Spock hesitates. "Yes. Do it," Kirk continues, then as he often does, tries to find humor in the situation. "I'm trusting you to get us out of here, got it?"

"Yes, Captain."

"And stop that, I do have a real name, you know," he mutters.

"I am aware of that, Jim." The line has the desired effect; he huffs a laugh and relaxes slightly.

Spock pushes the cold and his own pain from his mind, puts his fingers to Jim's head and senses the wild neural activity, and it is of no relevance whether he's wanted to do this before. He will consider that idea later, if at all.

He sifts through the layers of thought and signals, finding the areas the venom has influenced. Fortunately, he can tell there will be no permanent damage. Something catches his attention, seems to call to him from deeper than he can clearly sense, but it would be an unforgivable invasion of privacy to look further, and so he does not, though it takes some effort to ignore. It is simple enough to calm what chaos the venom has wrought, and the feeling of Jim relaxing as the pain fades inspires within him some sensation he cannot name.

He eases Jim into sleep–there is no reason for him to remain awake in these uncomfortable conditions–then withdraws from the meld, and there's a faint regret he brushes away just as soon as it is recognized. He should not spare attention for anything beyond escaping the current situation.

It is not long before a Toranen enters the room and yells at Spock that he is to come to the trial and speak for himself and his captain. He is silently thankful for the Universal Translator and for Nyota's improvements to his mother's invention; the languages of the Toranens contain sounds even his ears cannot distinguish. The Toranen escorts him to what must be their equivalent of a courtroom, where the members of the sect sit on benches above the platform from which he is told to speak, and speak concisely, because they see elaborate words to be the medium of falsehood.

"Tell us your worth and that of your leader," the sect chief booms, "so that we might know you deserve life."

Spock knows what he will say to this staring, judging audience.

"Captain Kirk leads based on what is right and what is beneficial to those he can help, and to his crew, whose safety he assigns the highest importance. He inspires the loyalty and love of his followers, and protects them at any cost. He is unafraid of work or effort. He constantly works to improve, to better his methods through new knowledge." There is no visible reaction from his audience as Spock concludes, "My worth is that I will serve him as well as I am able, with honor and dedication."

They vote. It is in his favor.

Within the hour they are returned to the Enterprise, and although the effect of the guard animals' venom has faded, Doctor McCoy insists on examining them both. He releases Spock almost immediately, muttering about non-human physiologies having benefits sometimes, but keeps Kirk behind to repair the broken rib. Though it is a simple enough treatment in this day and age, Spock finds he would rather stay near the captain until he is absolutely certain of his health. McCoy notices his proximity and smiles briefly as if amused before telling him to "stop hovering, he's going to be fine."

"It is merely professional concern for the Captain's well-being." Spock replies, because this is certainly justifiable.

McCoy gives him the same amused look and says, "You just keep telling yourself that."

**5**

Ignorance is a condition that Spock despises, if such an emotional word could be used to describe his regard of the concept. Ignorance means foolish cadets who do not realize that life is not as simple as school. Ignorance means arrogant teachers who preach proverbs they do not understand, teach lessons they have not learned.

_ The point of the test is to experience fear. Fear in the face of death._

Until the destruction of Vulcan, until the reign of Khan, he did not know fear.

_ The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few._

Until he watched his captain die alone and in agony behind the glass, he did not know what the needs of the many could cost.

_ It's logic. I'd thought you'd like that._

Until he lost James Kirk, he did not understand what his philosophy meant, and what pain it could bring.

**+1**

Jim is alive. He has woken, alive and showing no ill effects from his ordeal. Spock pulls his thoughts away from the past, away from the pain and horror of watching him die and the rage that followed that and the hope stained with anxiety and fear that had become unshakable during the entire period of his recovery. He cannot regret having felt so much, not when the uncomfortable, painful emotions have shaken him from any illusions of his regard for this man he would have killed to avenge.

But weeks of waiting have left him doubting if that regard is returned. Spock had spent much of that time at the Starfleet hospital. McCoy stopped commenting on how illogical it seemed after the first few days.

It is of no matter. He is to serve loyally, not to disturb him with inappropriate relations.

His uncertainty does not last long. A few days after he wakes, Jim sighs and looks at him. "C'mere," he says.

Spock is confused. Jim sighs again, and seems to think for a moment.

"Could you, y'know, do that mindmeld thing again?" he asks, surprising Spock. "To…see how I'm recovering?" That sounds more like an excuse than a reason, and they both know it.

Not willing to let his apprehension show, Spock initiates the meld, and cautiously examines the landscape he feared he might never experience again.

_ Good._ _Now stop being so nervous. You don't think I love you, and you're wrong. _

All around him, Spock feels a regard and love matching his own, and wonders how he could have overlooked it.

He reaches for the glowing space he had denied himself before. And feels the bond, shining warm and certain, and it is comfort and joy, belonging and home and love. His wordless wonder is mirrored by Jim's thoughts.

He thinks vaguely that there should be some shame, some fault, in feeling so strongly for another being and a human at that, but there is not, not anymore, and he does not invite the doubt to return.

They are, for the moment, safe, and Spock does not care to consider anything beyond that.


End file.
